The Secret of Mirkwood
by Violet Lunar Wolf
Summary: There's a reason why they call him Greenleaf.


**The Secret of Mirkwood**

Disclaimer: All LOTR characters, names and locations belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I own nothing that you recognize.

Written for the Diverse City contest on Caesar's Palace

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His name conjured images of an ancient land, a forest where leaves moved silently, their quiet whispers heard only by the elves that dwelled within this sacred space. It was a world where time stood still, its beauty preserved for thousands of years, untouched by man and protected by graceful woodland elves.

No one suspected that the hallowed halls of Mirkwood held a secret, one that the elven prince carried with him, carefully concealing the truth from those who saw him as a majestic being of royal blood. For if they were to see him as he truly was, the image of Legolas as the peaceful protector and noble woodland elf would be forever shattered. But if you were to look closely, quietly observing them as they moved about the woods, you might catch a glimpse of their secret.

The hobbits were first to notice it. They saw it in his eyes, the way he longed to venture into the woods, leaving the world behind as he escaped into his wilderness. And being the curious individuals that they were, Merry and Pippin decided to follow Legolas into the woods to see what he was up to.

What they saw was a scene straight out of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.

Legolas was perched upon a rock in the middle of the forest, surrounded by twittering birds, prancing fawns, squirrels nibbling on acorns, and toads that were playing leap frog. The frogs, on the other hand, were playing leap toad. But it was opposite day anyway so no one really cared.

Pippin elbowed Merry in the side and grinned. He pointed at the cloud of smoke encircling the prince's head, and Merry laughed when he realized what Legolas was doing.

They made their way down the path, with Pippin in the lead as he reached into his pocket and removed a small, black drawstring bag.

"Good morning, Legolas," said Pippin, smiling and waving at the elven prince. "I see you enjoy having a good smoke. Well, can't say that I blame you. We all enjoy having a good smoke every now and then, don't we?"

"Oh yes." Merry nodded in agreement. "Yes, yes indeed."

Legolas stared at them, narrowing his bloodshot eyes as he tried to figure out what they were. The one on the left resembled some sort of squeaking mushroom, and the one on the right looked like an overgrown caterpillar. A caterpillar with rainbow colored stars and stripes erupting out its bottom at regular intervals.

He snorted and fell over backwards, landing on his butt in the grass. When he looked up, the caterpillar was standing over him, holding a bag that contained some sort of sweet smelling herb.

"Now, we don't claim to have the best pipe weed in all the land," Pippin continued. "Definitely not as good as the herbs you grow in that old forest. But we hobbits do enjoy a good smoke with our afternoon tea. And I think that you'll find ours is good quality stuff."

"Weed?" the prince echoed, sounding very much like a trained parrot. A simpering smile spread across his face, and he reached for the bag thinking, 'Why not? Never hurts to sample some of the local flora.'

.oOo.

Aragorn and Gimli were in the middle of looking over a map when Legolas came running out of the woods. They looked up from their map, expecting to see the noble prince enter the campsite with the grace and dignity that befitted his race. But instead he was slapping his butt and pretending to ride an imaginary horse.

"The hobbits!" he cried, circling around campsite on his imaginary horse. "They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!"

"What?" Aragorn looked thoroughly confused. "What are you talking about?"

The elf dismounted his imaginary horse and burst into song.

"They're taking the hobbits to Isengard. They're taking the hobbits to Isengard. They're taking the hobbits to Isengard. Gard! Ga-ga-ga-gard! The hobbits, the hobbits, the hobbits, the hobbits, to Isengard! To Isengard! The hobbits, the hobbits, the hobbits, the hobbits, to Isengard! To Isengard! They're taking the hobbits to Isengard! Gard! Ga-ga-ga-gard!"

Merry and Pippin choose that moment to come stumbling out of the woods. They took one look at Legolas' performance and fell on the ground laughing.

Legolas snatched the sword from Aragorn's hand, swiped the helmet from Gimli's head, put the helmet on his head and started twirling the sword like a baton.

Aragorn sighed and rolled his eyes. "Dammit, Legolas! How many times have I told you not to smoke the hobbit's pipe weed?"

But Legolas wasn't listening. He was too busy dancing and singing, "Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime dwarf!"


End file.
